Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "SKY"

Часть текста: туманом всё обволакивающий дым. Пылинки начинают кружиться в твоих глазах, миллионы золотых миров. Ты улыбнулась! Мы выходим на балкон. Весна. Внизу, посреди улицы, жёлто-кудрявый малыш быстро-быстро рисует бога. Бог растянулся от одной стороны улицы до другой. Малыш сжимает в руке кусок мела, маленький кусок белого угольного карандаша, и сидя на корточках, поворачивается, вычерчивая широкую линию. У этого белого бога большие белые пуговицы и развёрнутые наружу ступни. Распятый на асфальте он смотрит в небеса круглыми глазами. Белой дугой рот. Бревно-образная сигара появилась у него во рту. Винтовыми толчками малыш изображает спиралевидный дым. Руки в боки, он созерцает свою работу. Добавляет ещё одну пуговицу. Громыхнула оконная рама через дорогу; женский голос, огромный и счастливый позвал его. Малыш зафутболил подальше мел и помчался домой. На фиолетовом асфальте остался белый, геометрический бог, вглядывающийся в небо. Твой взгляд опять мрачнеет. Я знаю, конечно, что тебе припоминается. В углу нашей спальни, под иконой, цветной резиновый мячик. Иногда он мягко и печально прыгает со стола и тихо катится по полу. Положи его на место, под икону, и потом, почему бы нам не прогуляться? Весенний воздух. Слегка пушистый. Посмотри на эти липы, равняющие улицу. Чёрные их ветви покрыты мокрыми зелёными блёстками. Все деревья в мире бредут куда-то. Вечные пилигримы. Помнишь, когда мы ехали сюда, в этот город, деревья бежали мимо окон нашего вагона? А помнишь те двенадцать тополей, совещающихся о том, как перейти реку? Давно, ещё в Крыму, я однажды видел, как кипарис склонился над цветущим миндалевым деревом Жил да был кипарис, большой высокий трубочист со щеткой на проволоке и с лестницей под мышкой. Бедняга, по уши влюблённый в маленькую прачку, розовую как лепестки миндаля. Теперь они наконец встретились и вместе неизвестно куда держат свой путь Ее розовый передник...

2. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two

Входимость: 4. Размер: 51кб.

Часть текста: distance, 8 before it, freaked and flowered, lay meadows and golden grainfields; one could glimpse hamlets here and there; herds roamed the meadows; 12 and its dense coverts spread a huge neglected garden, the retreat of pensive dryads. II The venerable castle was built as castles should be built: excellent strong and comfortable 4 in the taste of sensible ancientry. Tall chambers everywhere, hangings of damask in the drawing room, portraits of grandsires on the walls, 8 and stoves with varicolored tiles. All this today is obsolete, I really don't know why; and anyway it was a matter 12 of very little moment to my friend, since he yawned equally amidst modish and olden halls. III He settled in that chamber where the rural old-timer had for forty years or so squabbled with his housekeeper, 4 looked through the window, and squashed flies. It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards, a table, a divan of down, and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin 8 opened the cupboards; found in one a notebook of expenses and in the other a whole array of fruit liqueurs, pitchers of eau-de-pomme, 12 and the calendar for eighteen-eight: having a lot to do, the old man never looked into any other books. IV Alone midst his possessions, merely to while away the time, at...

3. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Notes to Eugene Onegin

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Часть текста: seulement par l'embellissement de son teint, et pour avoir trouvé des tasses de blanc sur sa toilette, mais sur ce qu'entrant un matin dans sa chambre, je le trouvai brossant ses ongles avec une petite vergette faite exprès, ouvrage qu'il continua fi+èrement devant moi. Je jugeai qu'un homme qui passe deux heures tous les matins à brosser ses ongles peut bien passer quelques instans à remplir de blanc les creux de sa peau.” (Les Confessions de Jean-Jacques Rousseau.) Grimm was ahead of his age: nowadays people all over enlightened Europe clean their nails with a special brush. >> 7. The whole of this ironical stanza is nothing but a subtle compliment to our fair compatriots. Thus Boileau, under the guise of disapprobation, eulogizes Louis XIV. Our ladies combine enlightenment with amiability, and strict purity of morals with the Oriental charm that so captivated Mme de Staël ( Dix ans d'exil). >> 8. Readers remember the charming description of a Petersburg night in Gnedich's idyl: Here's night; but the...

4. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter five

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Часть текста: on the night of the second. Waking early, Tatiana from the window saw at morn the whitened yard, 8 flower beds, roofs, and fence; delicate patterns on the panes; the trees in winter silver, gay magpies outside, 12 and the hills softly overspread with winter's brilliant carpeting. All's bright, all's white around. II Winter! The peasant, celebrating, in a flat sledge inaugurates the track; his naggy, having sensed the snow, 4 shambles at something like a trot. Plowing up fluffy furrows, a bold kibitka flies: the driver sits upon his box 8 in sheepskin coat, red-sashed. Here runs about a household lad, upon a hand sled having seated “blackie,” having transformed himself into the steed; 12 the scamp already has frozen a finger. He finds it both painful and funny — while his mother, from the window, threatens him... III But, maybe, pictures of this kind will not attract you; all this is lowly nature; 4 there is not much refinement here. Warmed by the god of inspiration, another poet in luxurious language for us has painted the first snow 8 and all the shades of winter's delectations. 27 He'll captivate you, I am sure of it, when he depicts in flaming verses secret promenades in sleigh; 12 but I have no intention of contending either with him at present or with you, singer of the young Finnish Maid! 28 IV Tatiana (being Russian at heart, herself not knowing why) loved, in all its cold beauty, 4 a Russian winter: rime in the...

5. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 9 - 11

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Часть текста: its desultory character and pseudoliterary aspects, attending to it whenever I had nothing better to do. On the other hand, I was urged by a war-time university in New York to complete my comparative history of French literature for English-speaking students. The first volume took me a couple of years during which I put in seldom less than fifteen hours of work daily. As I look back on those days, I see them divided tidily into ample light and narrow shade: the light pertaining to the solace of research in palatial libraries, the shade to my excruciating desires and insomnias of which enough has been said. Knowing me by now, the reader can easily imagine how dusty and hot I got, trying to catch a glimpse of nymphets (alas, always remote) playing in Central Park, and how repulsed I was by the glitter of deodorized career girls that a gay dog in one of the offices kept unloading upon me. Let us skip all that. A dreadful breakdown sent me to a sanatorium for more than a year; I went back to my workonly to be hospitalized again. Robust outdoor life seemed to promise me some relief. One of ...

6. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Fragments of Onegin's journey

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Часть текста: just and witty). The author candidly confesses that he omitted from his novel a whole chapter in which Onegin's journey across Russia was described. It depended upon him to designate this omitted chapter by means of dots or a numeral; but to avoid ambiguity he decided it would be better to mark as number eight, instead of nine, the last chapter of Eugene Onegin, and to sacrifice one of its closing stanzas [Eight: XLVIIIa]: 'Tis time: the pen for peace is asking nine cantos I have written; my boat upon the joyful shore 4 by the ninth billow is brought out. Praise be to you, O nine Camenae, etc. “P[avel] A[leksandrovich] Katenin (whom a fine poetic talent does not prevent from being also a subtle critic) observed to us that this exclusion, though perhaps advantageous to readers, is, however, detrimental to the plan of the entire work since, through this, the transition from Tatiana the provincial miss to Tatiana the grande dame becomes too unexpected and unexplained: an observation revealing the experienced artist. The author himself felt the justice of this but decided to leave out the chapter for reasons important to him but not to the public. Some fragments [XVI–XIX, l–10] have been published [Jan. 1, 1830, Lit. Gaz. ] ; we insert them here, subjoining to them several other stanzas.” E. [sic]...

7. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven

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Часть текста: Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin Chapter seven CHAPTER SEVEN Moscow! Russia's favorite daughter! Where is your equal to be found? Dmitriev How not to love one's native Moscow? Baratïnski “Reviling Moscow! This is what comes from seeing the world! Where is it better, then?” “Where we are not.” Griboedov I Chased by the vernal beams, down the surrounding hills the snows already have run in turbid streams 4 onto the inundated fields. With a serene smile, nature greets through her sleep the morning of the year. Bluing, the heavens shine. 8 The yet transparent woods as if with down are greening. The bee flies from her waxen cell after the tribute of the field. 12 The dales grow dry and varicolored. The herds are noisy, and the nightingale has sung already in the hush of nights. II How sad your apparition is to me, spring, spring, season of love! What a dark stir there is 4 in my soul, in my blood! With what oppressive tenderness I revel in the whiff of spring fanning my face 8 in the lap of the rural stillness! Or is enjoyment strange to me, and all that gladdens, animates, all that exults and gleams, 12 casts spleen...

8. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 1 - 8

Входимость: 2. Размер: 53кб.

Часть текста: fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta. She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. 2 I was born in 1910, in Paris. My father was a gentle, easy-going person, a salad of racial genes: a Swiss citizen, of mixed French and Austrian descent, with a dash of the Danube in his veins. I am going to pass around in a minute some lovely, glossy-blue picture-postcards. He owned a luxurious hotel on the Riviera. His father and two grandfathers had sold wine, jewels and silk, respectively. At thirty he married an English girl, daughter of Jerome Dunn, the alpinist, and granddaughter of two Dorset parsons, experts in obscure subjectspaleopedology and Aeolian harps, respectively. My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when...

9. Тамми Пекка: Заметки о полигенетичности в прозе Набокова

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Часть текста: подтекст (или один литературный источник), а целое множество источников. В этом смысле интертекстуальная связь между первичным текстом и его подтекстом может быть названа полигенетической, поскольку в подобном случае в порождении данного сегмента участвует не один, а большее количество источников. Наши рассуждения иллюстрируются примерами из русско- и англоязычной прозы Владимира Набокова. В случае существования двуязычного варианта приводятся оба, так как в английские переводы своих написанных первоначально на русском языке текстов Набоков вводил много изменений, которые также существенны в аспекте изучаемой нами проблемы. В качестве гипотезы мы утверждаем, что несмотря на то, что полигенетические связи никоим образом не характеризуют исключительно Набокова — или, более широко, модернизм вообще, — тем не менее можно в том необыкновенно систематическом методе, посредством которого этот автор применяет многочисленные подтексты, усмотреть особенности модернизма, к выделению которых в стиле Набокова мы и стремимся. В заключительной части мы вкратце коснемся вопроса родового сходства Набокова с некоторыми из его собратьев — русских модернистов. 2. Сначала следует определить, что мы понимаем в контексте данной работы под понятием подтекст. Обратимся с этой целью к роману Набокова «Дар» (1937–8, 1952), переведенному затем им самим на английский язык под заглавием «The Gift» (1963). В этом романе в основной текст вставлен другой текст. И вставленный текст, предположительно написанный героем романа, в свою очередь рецензируется критиком из романа, рецензия которого цитируется ниже. Критик, по имени Линев, пишет следующее: The author writes in a language having little in common with Russian <…> he places solemn but not quite grammatical maxims in the mouths of his characters, like ...

10. Чарльз Кинбот: Серебристый свет. Подлинная жизнь Владимира Набокова. Chapter One. On Visiting Nabokov's Tomb

Входимость: 2. Размер: 9кб.

Часть текста: sensibilities or who have no French), in which the author, feigning humility, lists the names of the people and institutions he has had occasion to consult, implying, or, more often, stating explicitly, that although all these fine folks were instrumental in establishing the book's final form, none of them can be held responsible for any of the lapses or idiocies to be found therein; for these the author alone must answer. I have opted, against the protestations of my editor, to forego this tiresome ritual. Every word, every thought, every mark of punctuation in this work is my own, except where stated otherwise according to the dictates of careful scholarship. Certainly the comments (solicited or not) of many persons have guided me in perfecting my book, but only insofar as they served as signposts of exactly the type of tired tripe I wished to avoid. The most common of these was a chilly "You can't do that," as if my book were violating some immemorial cosmic law. For all their carping about institutional constraints on the freedom of their thought and work, my fellow academicians (and even many of you, self-styled "Nabokovians") have revealed themselves to be virulently censorial when confronted by the weird fruit of my research. Few things are more depressing to an intelligent person than the revelation that a whole league of supposedly enlightened literati is in fact a mob of petulant nitwits. Chapter One On Visiting Nabokov's Tomb ...

Поиск по творчеству и критикеCлово "SKY"

Поиск по творчеству и критике
Cлово "SKY"